Slipstream: Saviour
by Lady Shockbox
Summary: Sequel to "Slipstream: Resurrection" by MyBlueOblivion - There are many truths that live in darkness. Scorponok accidentally uncovers one thing that should have stayed there, and an ancient nightmare named Slipstream is unleashed once more. Beast Wars


Deleted, rewritten, and reposted because the first version of this fanfic was nowhere _near_ the same par as MyBlueOblivion's other two stories. I originally set out to write the first adaptation of this ficclet as an unofficial spin-off to _Slipstream: Chronicles_ but, shortly after I started the first version of this fanfic, he set out to write the sequel _Slipstream: Resurrection_ before _Savior_ was ever even finished. Now, almost a bit unwittingly, I find that I've inherited writing what is now more or less considered the third story for the trilogy. So, in honor of the completion of _Slipstream: Resurrection,_ I have rewritten the beginning chapters of the original _Savior_ and am now working on completing this fanfic entirely. The fanfic is unchanged in regards to plot, but I hope that it's now a bit more intelligently written. The time period is set during season one of Beast Wars and the rating is for vampire gore and whatnot. Concrit is much loved, and gives me warm fuzzies whenever I get actual feedback on how I can improve. In honor of my unofficial older brother and this legacy he started, I now give you the re_vamped_ - pun completely intended - story that is the third in the Slipstream trilogy, _Slipstream: Saviour. _

* * *

For my very dear friend and figurative big brother, MyBlueOblivion.

**What you got, what you want, what you need**

**Everything's gonna crash and break**

**Your savior**

_Savior_ - Skillet

**i**

To begin with, it was something that lived in the dark. For all matters worth, it should have stayed there.

Despite the heavy rain that slicked the ground to match the consistency of mud, it was able to move through the underbrush and shadows with ease. It was in its element after all, stalking its prey in the late obscurity of the stygian night. It made no sound as it silently crept on all fours across the moist forest floor, dirtying its taut hide with the mud and wet leaves that clung to its body like a second skin. A powerful gale usurped from the storm made the branches on the tall trees overhead rock and sway, causing the wood groan with its discontent and silent warning to snap from strain. The creature paid no heed.

The roaming predator was starved, ravenously hungry for its only source of food in the same way it also needed air. It was a solitary hunter in the midnight shadows, bent on just one simple goal. That, above all other missions in its lifetime, was the ambition to _feed_. The drive to have company and escape the suffocating grasp of loneliness was never intended for it. Hunger was its only companion. Fulfillment was its only friend. Satisfaction was its only one true euphoria. The monster needed to attain subsistence, and it was already so very close to reaching its aspiration already. Thus was the hunt drawing to its imminent close. Its chosen prey, like all others, was blissfully unaware to its presence.

Like all its prey before it, it was doomed to its fate before it was even killed.

Lightning flashed overhead simultaneously alongside the roaring thunder that followed. The ground shook in a moderate quaver from wherever the unseen bolt struck, but the ominous warning did not deter the predator in the slightest. It was invincible to the storm. Invincible to almost _everything_. A godly marauder. Its only real fear came from full moons, but they were hidden behind the cover of the tempest and therefore no threat.

Thankfully, none of _those_ monsters were around. _It_ was the only monster here.

It continued to creep forth, stepping on a twig cast down from the branches from the ever massive storm. It was a purposeful move. A hunting tactic to make its prey nervous. In nervousness came clumsiness, and in clumsiness came an easy kill. The prey jumped to attention with a startled shreik, momentarily illuminated by the white flash of lightning that beamed overhead. The prey was a strange creature, truth be told. The predator had never seen prey with such red coating as the one it was hunting. Ithad first seen the prey circling overhead the clearing in a different form before it shifted into a different, bipedal shape as it landed in the forest's clearing. The only other time the predator had seen such a transformation was from the hivemind, and it had always assumed before that it was the only one of this curious creature. The red prey was truly spectacular, although the otherwise impressive display had little lasting effect on the predator.

It longed for a taste.

The red prey whipped around in ever direction, crimson eyes darting in frantic panic as it tried to look in every direction at once. The endeavor was met with miserable failure. Fear radiated off its hide like a fire would radiate heat, or how its prey would soon radiate the sweet smell of the kill. The scarlet being called out again, perhaps inquiring for its own kind. The monster that lurked in the bushes moved silently to the side, flanking its prey, before it stealthily moved in for he final stalk.

Finally, the prey turned its head and its red eyes spotted it. Instantly, it lunged forth to seize its prize. The kill.

The scarlet prey shrieked and tried to take off into the air, but the predator knocked it to the ground and had it in its secure grasp before the escape could be made. The predator bit down sharply with all its strength the prey's chest desperate for retribution, although it was met with the tough leathery exterior of its inferior attempt. It hissed in disappointment while its prey screamed in a combination of pain, horror, and trembling fear. The prey thrashed about and kicked out furiously with its legs, trying to gain footing at the ground to clout its way of its assailants grasp. The prey's efforts went entirely in vain, as the mud was far too churned from the heavy rain and the struggle to maintain any solid hold. The prey was trapped. It shrieked in a loud, ear splitting tone and brought its fist down on the predator's head and back. The predator was hardly affected. It had enough strength to take down this prey and hundreds of thousands of other like it if it was given the chance. Petty blows meant nothing.

The prey tried to rear back in its vain attempt to escape, but the predator held on fast and grabbed the side of its prey's face with its clawed, bony hands. With a forceful turn and competition of strength, its prey's head was forced to the side and the bare throat was exposed. The prey screamed in pain at the violent jolt its head got and shrieked for help, voice cracking as it fruitlessly tried to keep what little remained of its dissolving composure. The predator could feel the pulsating of the rich prey's life source pumping through his mechanical veins and, although it was not that of its usual diet, it would be enough to satisfy its hunger until its next kill.

It screamed its twisted paean and bit down hard on the prey's neck. The predator's fangs sunk deep. The prey screamed in steadfast agony.

It sucked hard then, drawing up as much of the rich essence that it could handle in one swallow. The warm, luscious fluid trickled down the throat of the predator and spattered onto its face when it ripped at the cables with its fangs. It did not taste like its usual meals did, but it would have to do. The prey shrieked in white hot pain and struggled to escape, trying desperately to bat away at the predator with its trembling fists and suddenly unstable legs. Its entire body shuddered violently from the loss of its own life source and, tiring, the dying prey gave a weak sob and went nearly entirely limp in the predator's embrace. The prey's screams turned to meek cries and, for a moment, the predator felt pity.

…Knowing pity was not one of its best features, however. It ripped at its prey's collar further.

The prey made no sound. Its breathing had long since become shallow and was slowing. Hot tears rolled down its face as it inclined its head to stare into the eyes of its killer. Dulling and fading red met sharpening and glowing crimson. The kill was at hand. The predator had claimed its prey.

Over the sound of the wind and rain, a howl rose up. Like a spiraling pillar of unseen light, it rose into the branches above. It was not the omen that the predator ever wanted to hear. _Never._

It had only the briefest of sparse moments to look up from its prey and see the large creature appear on the outcropping looking over the small clearing overhead. Although the full moons were not out, the creature had still somehow managed to manifest itself. It was a horrifying sight for the predator. The lupine creature stood on its hind legs, a hulking mass of shuddering red fur and bold muscle. The beast's muzzle drew back in a primordial snarl of vicious intent before it lunged out of the trees. The predator with its prey had only a moment to release its meal and stagger away. It had no chance at escape, otherwise. The wolf's giant front paws struck it in the chest, forcing the bone to slightly cave in as it forced the predator to the ground.

Desperate for escape, now the prey instead of the predator it had previously been,it tried to snap at the wolf with its venomous fangs. Its attempts at defending itself were unsuccessful. It only clipped the fur of the red furred lupine as the beast lifted its massive paw and sent it crashing down on the once predator's skull. It screamed and only managed to barely roll out from beneath the wolf. The wolf let it. Regardless, the predator and now prey had no hope of escape. The predator knew it and so did the wolf. Its chest was crippled, bone poking through its pale flesh, and its chest heaved with the effort of attaining breath. Attempting to flee would be impossible. Black blood oozed from the top of its scalp where it was struck as well. If it was still able to run, its damaged skull would keep it from maintaining its balance. Still, the hopeless urge to flee remained.

At the same moment the creature attempted to uselessly crawl away, another howl broke the darkness.

The predator turned its head to see another wolf, smaller and dark ebony, trot over to the fallen form of what was once the predator's prey. The canine beast nudged the prey in the side with its muzzle, whimpering softly over the rumble of thunder. The rain was receding. Although the storm was far from over, the twin moons peeked through the clouds and cast light into the small forest clearing. The dark lupine creature snarled with malicious rancor when it achieved no response from the fallen prey. It inclined its large head upward to glare at the downed predator with brutal eyes that had the consistency, temperature, and color of ice. The wolf stepped over the fallen prey and advanced. The red wolf did the same.

It tried to escape. The predator's efforts went entirely in vain. The werewolves did not give it the opportunity to defend itself, nor did they show it pity. They tore the vampire apart with the animal intent of the kill. Its screams pierced the darkness and would have shattered the twin moons that finally broke through the receding cloud cover if they had been glass. Blood was shed, limbs were torn, the ultimate predator had become the most miniscule of all preys. By the time the wolves were finished, there was nothing left. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed overhead as the storm viciously regained its vigor. The moons became hidden once more, and the light entirely faded from the clearing.

Both the black and red wolf had to wait several long, grueling cycles before they could retain their true forms and more adequately carry their fallen comrade back to base. Yet, even as Inferno carried Terrorsaur's broken body Waspinator kept an ever vigilant optic eye out for any more vampires that might have been lurking in the shadows, Terrorsaur began to turn. His strength to scream repossessed him as soon as the searing hot venom from the vampire began to lance throughout his systems like the deadly virus it was. The red flier's screams were at their peak when they finally made it back to the _Darkside_. Nothing was said to them as both insects brought the red flier to his room, noting the flier was close to becoming one of those things that Inferno and Waspinator only dared called _it_.

Even in its own death, the predator still lived. The prey had been claimed.

Even when Terrorsaur locked his confused and nearly dead optics with a particular scorpion as he was hauled deep into the Predacon ship, Scorponok had no idea a certain scarlet vampire would be his savior. Neither did Terrorsaur realize Scorponok would also be his. Because, ultimately, sometimes it would be the prey who saved the predator and the predator who saved the prey.

To begin with, it was something that lived in the dark. For all matters worth, it did not stay there.

…For another, it also never went back.


End file.
